Cinderella in Flip-Flops by The Queen Writer
by MeetTheMateContest
Summary: Ever have one of those mornings when nothing goes the way it should? Bella is having one today, all because of George.


**Title:** Cinderella in Flip-Flops

 **Summary:** Ever have one of those mornings when nothing goes the way it should? Bella is having one today, all because of George.

 **Pairing:** Edward/Bella

 **Rating:** M

 **Word count:** 2,709

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"George!"

Bella ran up the short flight of stairs to the second floor of her small house. Her fat housecat, George, regularly sunbathed in a small hall window, but to her dismay, he wasn't flopped out on the special bed that was attached to the wall.

"Oh, crap." She groaned out a long sigh as she realized he was officially missing.

It dawned on her that he must have made his escape when she had left the back door open just a crack so that she wouldn't be locked out **.**

Again.

She had just taken out the trash after spending a good twenty minutes cleaning up the mess that had been made when the bag had torn. Coffee grounds and other miscellaneous grossness had spilled all over her and the ground.

"Well of course he'd decide to take off on a Sunday morning when I've got a million things to do **.** Darn you, George for playing your disappearing game."

She ran back down the stairs, shoved her feet into a pair of old flip-flops and wandered into her backyard.

"George, where are you, you lazy bum?" She made her way to the small citrus tree in the back of her yard and gazed skyward, hoping the black cat would be lounging on a limb just waiting for her to climb up and grab him. After inspecting the branches much longer than necessary, she concluded that George had skipped town on her.

Turning to walk back across the yard, Bella saw the fat tabby cat sitting on the wooden fence that bordered her yard and the neighboring house that had, until a week ago, been empty. She hadn't had time yet to meet her new neighbors, but it certainly seemed as if George was going to rectify that situation for them.

She walked quickly toward the cat, knowing if she ran he'd run off as well, "Georgie, stay right there, baby." She cooed softly.

The cat lifted his chin, and with his green eyes seemed to say, ' _you don't tell me what to do. I am my own_ _man.'_ As if to prove his point, he jumped off the fence, landing in the yard next door.

"Are you freaking serious?"

She ran for the fence, and without a second thought, grabbed the top of two wooden planks and lifted herself enough to see her cat trotting his furry butt across her new neighbor's well-manicured lawn. He sniffed curiously at a pair of muddy sneakers that were left on a small concrete slab by a large glass door.

"Gross, George. Get away from the dirty shoes." She hissed at the cat who continued to ignore her.

Her feet slid on the wood as she quietly attempted to scale the fence. She started pleading to any deity that would listen to let her successfully sneak over and toss the damn cat back into her yard. She swore up and down that if she accomplished this feat she'd never let George out of the house again.

On purpose or not.

"The things I do to save your butt, George." Bella huffed as she finally got her footing and swung a leg over the fence, balancing precariously eight feet off the ground. Not something she enjoyed and for that, George would not be getting his special salmon dinner tonight.

"That's right, buddy. You can kiss that can of salmon mush goodbye, none for you." George only ignored her threat and carried on with batting around the laces of the shoes he'd sniffed a few moments ago. "And stop. Stop playing with the dirty shoes." At that, George flopped onto his side and rolled his back all over the muddy footwear.

Very slowly and very deliberately, she worked to get her second leg over the fence just in time to see her cat pause, sniffing curiously at an open window.

And then leap right into the house.

"Oh my god!" She had a mini heart attack at the thought that George had just jumped into a stranger's house. In her attempt to turn and go back into her yard, she slipped and landed on her ass in the damp grass. A shock of pain shot through her tailbone and caused her to moan. She lay flat on her back, staring up at the blue sky and white fluffy clouds that mocked her in all their cute Sunday perkiness.

"This is just how I envisioned spending my day, on my ass in a strange backyard while my damn cat makes friends with the new neighbors. I've officially crossed the line from slightly quirky into the creeper zone."

Rolling onto her side, she took stock of all of her bones and joints, noting that the thing she bruised most was her pride. Thankfully though, no one had actually been around to witness her ridiculousness.

Sitting up, Bella decided there was nothing she could do to end this misery other than to hope someone was home and that they didn't own a gun or a speed dial button to the police.

She approached the open window, which stood about belly height, and looked around for her mischievous cat. She found him curled up in a ball on the kitchen counter, soaking up the sun next to a small moving box.

"George!" She hissed, "Get your fluffy ass over here now."

She leaned further into the house, snapping her fingers and quietly coaxing George, who ignored her completely. Just a tiny bit more and she might be able to reach him.

At this point, she was half in and half out of a complete stranger's house, with her feet dangling off the ground and at risk of being labeled a burglar.

She giggled in spite of herself, "A cat burglar."

When the cat didn't so much as twitch a whisker, she continued in a louder, more aggravated voice, "George, we are so going to get caught in our new neighbor's kitchen. If you don't come here right now, I will make you go to obedience classes. I swear to god you will learn to sit, roll over and speak like a damn dog."

"I would love to see a cat speak on command. As a matter of fact, I'd love to see any cat in the world obey anything a human tells them the first time."

Bella whipped her head toward the appealingly masculine voice and feasted her eyes upon the most gorgeous man she'd ever seen. His eyes almost matched the same color as George's, his hair was dark from being wet and pushed away from his forehead. She damn near swallowed her tongue when her eyes tracked further south to a wide expanse of bare skin stretched taught over a very nice set of pecs and a six pack worth drooling over. From the waistband of his basketball shorts peeked an excellent looking little treasure trail, and she had to wonder what a guy of his stature was packing in that treasure chest.

"My eyes are up here. What is with women these days, you can't even have a conversation with one without feeling like a piece of meat. Sometimes I think men are objectified in television and those romance novels you probably hoard by the armload." His tone was warm and his eyes held a smile. She couldn't quite tell if he was joking or if he was serious.

"I'm so sorry." Dammit, her eyes didn't want to cooperate, much like her cat; they seemed to have a mind of their own.

The man leaned over and ran his hand down George's back.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, he hates men."

The stranger cocked a wicked eyebrow her way and grinned, "I think I can handle the runaway cat." He hefted George into his arms and looked into the cat's eyes, "You're chunky. What kind of food are you feeding him?"

Edward peered into the face of the large feline that now rested comfortably in his arms while his owner huffed indignantly, half inside his kitchen window. She was every girl-next-door fantasy he'd ever had, come to life. Her wide brown eyes softened even when she was scolding the fat cat. A pile of chestnut colored hair sat on top of her head, tanned skin and some insanely short-shorts that made her already long legs look miles longer. He knew about the legs because he had watched her fence escapades from the bathroom window. Not to mention the fact that her breasts were pushing out of the top of her tank top as she teetered on the sill.

"Just give me back my cat and we'll be out of your hair."

"How are you going to get back into your yard? I mean, you can't possibly go back the way you came." Her cheeks flushed and her eyes opened as round as an owl. "Which, by the way, was a very impressive tumble. Are you okay?"

"Oh my God. Just give me my cat and I'll figure it out. Are you always such a jerk?" Her cheeks were pink with embarrassment and she could feel the quickening of her pulse in her throat when he walked closer.

"You think I'm a jerk?" The cat he was holding started purring loudly, rumbling against his arm, "Looks like your cat likes me just fine."

"Traitor," Bella mumbled, her eyes squinting at the cat, "And yes, I do think you're a jerk. You insult my cat's weight, then you insult me and you don't even know me."

"I insulted you?"

"Oh don't be naive." She stuttered for a moment before continuing, "You're trying to insinuate that I can't control my lustful thoughts and behavior just because you came out here strutting your stuff like a peacock in heat. Well, let me tell you something." She was staring him straight in the eye now, all business, "What's your name?"

"My name? Oh, you mean so that you can really put me in my place when you tell me off. Gotcha." He couldn't help himself, the more irritated she got, the hotter she looked and he was a master button- pusher.

"Edward. My name is Edward."

"So anyway, Edward," She snarked, "Let me tell you something. Men stare and ogle women all day long and they get high fives and heaps of encouragement. Why are women made to believe that it's wrong for them to reciprocate?"

"Sweetheart, you can ogle me all you want. Tell ya what; in about half an hour I'll be out in the front yard pulling weeds, I won't even put a shirt on. You can bring me a tall glass of iced tea or lemonade and we can get to know each other while you ogle me. But turnabout is fair play; I get to ogle right back."

He watched his new neighbor go from irritated to angry in a flash and bit back a groan when she chewed at her lip.

"You are disgusting. Give me my cat."

"It would probably be safer for you to just come into the house. Although, watching you climb back over that fence would be nice."

"Oh for fucks sake. Can my cat and I use your front door so that we can go back home? Trust me; we'll never bother you ever again. You have my word."

"Aww, where's the fun in that? I was looking forward to some lemonade."

She looked as if she was ready to smack him, so he wisely went to the back the door and held it open for her, gesturing with a swooping arm, an invitation to come in; all the while watching, as she shimmied off the sill and plopped down on the grass.

"You'll have to excuse the mess."

"Whatever. Just give me George and I'm sure I can find my way out."

"Well, George," he held the cat up face to face, "Looks like you have to go home now with your beautiful owner. But you are invited to come back anytime you want and bring her along, too."

She grabbed the fat cat into her arms and rolled her eyes, "Such flattery."

He grinned widely and she felt her heart skip four beats. If she wanted to keep her head on her damn shoulders, she needed to exit pronto.

"Your name?"

Aww dammit, she thought to herself and blew out an annoyed puff of breath.

"Bella." She tossed her name over her shoulder as she carefully made her way through stacks of boxes to the front door; all the while holding tightly on to George.

As she walked, she tried to look around discretely, thus causing her to bump into a large mirror that was leaning against a few boxes. As she tried to right herself, she felt arms lightly go around her waist.

In her haste to move away from his grasp, she abruptly turned. The quick motion caught the strap of her tank top on the corner of the mirror, causing it to snap loose from the rest of fabric revealing a small piece of her pink, polka-dot bra to Edward.

"Sweet merciful crap!" she cried, unsteady on her feet, yet still in control of George.

"Careful there, Bella, I need you in one piece," her new neighbor said playfully as he looked from her face to the bright garment now showing.

He then touched her shoulder, eying the bruise that was sure to turn her skin purple by the end of the day. A jolt of heat passed through his fingertips into her skin causing Bella to suck in a quick breath as their eyes met. Edward wore a devilish smirk as it dawned on him that she wasn't as annoyed as she pretended and Bella looked away.

It was then, as she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror that damn near killed her, that her breath the reflection, she could see a huge patch of dried mud on her shoulder. The damp grass clippings that had become stuck in her hair made her look like a deranged bird, and there was dirt all over the back of her barely-there shorts, the ones she never left the house wearing.

Ever.

Not to mention she was missing her left flip-flop.

Oh, and let's not forget the coup de grâce, her bra hanging out of the top corner of her shirt.

And there was George, the reason for all of her problems, contently ensconced in the protective arms of his owner, smug cat smile on his face.

I mean really, she shouldn't be surprised; her luck seemed to shake down the wrong end a lot these days.

She didn't look back, just hustled out of Edward's house and toward her own, never realizing her new, sexy-as-sin neighbor was watching her all the while, grinning like a happy man.

"See you around, Bella." He called out in amusement.

As she finally felt the security of home almost within her reach **,** she approached the porch, tripping slightly up the step and stubbing her toe, losing her other flip-flop.

She brushed it all aside.

She was here.

Her sanctuary.

Her home.

She reached for the handle and turned.

She tried it again.

And again.

 _Fuck, fuck, fuckity-fuck._

Frustrated, all she could do was sigh.

She plopped down on the porch, defeated, while George still purred in her arms.

"Way to go, Cinderella," she said to herself, "Could this day get any worse?"

From the corner of her eye, she saw her perfectly, pompous-ass neighbor approaching. A heart-stopping smile spread across his ridiculously handsome face; his shirtless torso, in all of its tanned glory, reminding her that she needed to get outside more often.

She couldn't decide if she was irritated that he looked so pleased with himself, or if it was just a case of her heart getting the best of her.

She nearly laughed out loud when George opened his eyes and purred louder, the cat echoing her own sentiment about their new neighbor.

 _Well, Cinderella, maybe this is your lucky day. Because that right there looks an awful lot like a prince to me, and he's carrying your flip-flop in his hand._

 _Maybe this day won't be so bad_ _after all._

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